The Fall

Perched,

extending from gripped hands

and feet,

arched back to let the light

bleed through.

Lowering from lofty purchase, eddy gust

through the hollow and sway

as the rain runs vertically,

showering up into the face;

a drawn breath and the run off

sees you choking,

cerebral torchlight illuminates

a phantom thorax, twitches

that urge you into a flight your

wingless carapace cannot facilitate...

but a drop can feel exhilarating,

outstretched arms

imagine currents that are carrying

when the fall is all that's occurring;

ground rushing to greet the unwary.

And our flapped wings bring no flight

as our cries bare no fruit;

the plight involves becoming food

for those that inhabit the midden,

we are eaten as our dreams and

dalliance are painted into the darkness

that covers like a cowl those

that have plummeted

from the heights.